Fic: Kicking Shadows
Fic Title: Kicking Shadows
Author: lit_chick08
Pairing: LoVe
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Word Count: 3114
Summary: As if Veronica needed another reason to hate Halloween…
Spoilers: Everything that’s aired thus far
Disclaimer: Shockingly enough, I don’t own “Veronica Mars”
A/N: Written for the Incognito challenge for vm_library and beta’ed by the incomparable Madame Librarian.
A/N2: This is a sequel to another fic that I wrote. The link is below, but it is not necessary to read to understand this one. All you really need to know is that it is set in an alternate season 3 where Logan went to rehab and he and Veronica are taking a break, but everything else is the same. The story itself was inspired by the song “Hate Me” by Blue October and that’s also where the title comes from.
Drying Out, The Pseudo Prequel
Veronica Mars had always hated Halloween. Even as a child, she had detested the one night a year that allowed everyday assholes to indulge in even more juvenile and hurtful behavior under the guise of fun. If she had her way, Halloween would be wiped off of the calendar completely and November could come sooner, bringing with it political smear campaigns and a holiday that contributed to the obesity epidemic.
But no, Halloween was a given, and with it came douchebaggery of the highest form, perpetrated by drunken frat boys everywhere. And it was for that reason that Paul Sheldon, upstanding Neptune community member and neighbor to the Pi Sigma fraternity house, had hired Mars Investigations to get pictures of the Pi Sig brothers vandalizing his property, just as they did every year. There was even a bonus for her if she managed to get a money shot of the bastard who destroyed his young daughter’s jack o’ lantern. Veronica had immediately taken the job, because even if the Pi Sigs weren’t rapists, they were despicable human beings and bringing them down was definitely going to feel good.
Veronica was slouched low in the front seat of her Saturn as she watched the partygoers enter the fraternity house, all in various states of undress and inebriation, screeching loud enough to drown out the feminist protesters on the lawn, of which Parker was a part of. The blonde was still not speaking to Veronica; Mac had tried to assure her that she would get over it, but Veronica wasn’t sure. If Parker could hold a grudge the way that Veronica could, the PI was certain they would not be wearing matching friendship bracelets any time soon.
Oh, and there was Dick, dressed as a condom, weaving his way through the protesters. Veronica knew it wasn’t professional to hold personal animosity on behalf of her clients, but she really hoped that they threw him down on the ground and nailed him in the balls again because this time, she did have her camera and that was a total Christmas card.
Wallace and Piz were going to the party sponsored at the basketball house, which had a pimps and hoes theme. They had tried to wrangle Mac into going along, but Mac was firmly of the belief that it was called underwear for a reason, so she was spending the night at the counseling center manning the phones. Veronica wished that she had done the same, but lately, working the rape crisis line was getting to be too much. She had barely begun to deal with her own rape; sometimes she doubted the wisdom of trying to help others through theirs.
As her thoughts began to wander towards her last confrontation with Parker-which had occurred the day before in front of the entire counseling center, in which Parker had screamed that she was a disgrace to women and should get the fuck out-she didn’t even notice the shadow that came up alongside the passenger side door until that shadow was climbing into her car.
Her taser was out and ready to be fired when she realized that the man now seated in her car was none other than Logan Echolls, wearing a black tuxedo, a black eyeliner moustache drawn onto his upper lip, a set of devil horns flashing atop his head. The irony of Logan, walking temptation, dressed as the ultimate sinner was just too delicious, even for Veronica.
She hadn’t seen Logan in weeks. Despite his request that they be friends, Veronica had pointedly been ignoring him. It hurt far too much to be around him, to see him smile when he joked around with Wallace, and not wonder what it would have been like if he had wanted to get back together after leaving rehab. She had spent so much time hating him after their blowout on the Coronado Bridge that she had swore that she would never even want to be with him again; but, as usual, she had changed her mind. Of course, she’d never admit that out loud or to Logan; the last thing he needed was her clinginess while he was only six weeks sober.
“You know, most college coeds actually go into the party, not sit like peeping toms across the street.”
“Most college coeds also take their tops off for the promise of plastic beads. Would you have me give in to every alcohol induced trend?”
A mischievous smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “That depends on whether I get to be in the viewing area or not.”
“Um, I believe you relinquished your rights to my fabulous breasts,” Veronica tried to joke, kicking herself the moment the words were out.
The smirk disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m aware.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Veronica nodded towards the fraternity house. “Are you here for the party?”
Logan nodded, sliding the horns off of his head and setting them on the dashboard. “Dick invited me.”
“Is that smart?”
“Is anything Dick does smart?”
“No, I mean…is that the best idea, for you to hang out at a party that promises the best booze on campus?”
“Veronica...”
“Because the pamphlets at the center said that you’re supposed to change your habits and your friends, that you have to eliminate destructive influences, and I think that at the top of the list is Dick ‘Destructive Influence’ Casablancas...”
“Veronica!”
She stopped, waiting patiently in a way that was completely unlike her.
“I’m the safe driver tonight for Campus Security. If someone at the party needs a designated driver, I’m it. I’m not even going inside tonight; I get to sit in my car and wait for my cell to go off to tell me where to go. I’m only here because someone called but before I could get here, the guy’s girlfriend came and got him.”
Feeling properly chagrined, she just said, “Oh.”
“I’m serious about staying sober, Veronica. I’m not gonna throw it away for a keg stand with a bunch of Dick’s buddies.”
Fidgeting with the cuff of her shirt, she mumbled, “I’m sorry. I just thought...”
“I know what you thought.”
Uncomfortable silence descended upon the car, and Veronica, every nerve on edge, was prepared to shout at him to get out of her car and end her discomfort when Logan stated in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I miss you.”
He might as well have fired a shotgun for the echo that resounded through the car. Veronica whipped around to face him so quickly that she was certain she had thrown her neck off, and her expression was horrified hope.
“I know that you’re avoiding me and I understand why. I just want you to know...”
“How dare you!” she cut in, pain causing every syllable to waver.
“Veronica-“
“You pushed me away! You aren’t with me because you made it that way! You don’t get to miss me!”
Tiredly, Logan sighed, “Sweetheart...”
“You broke my heart,” she interrupted, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Do you even realize that? You broke me. And when you come back like this, when you say shit like this, you twist the knife in my heart that much more. So please excuse me if I don’t particularly empathize with your plight.”
Distaste filled Logan’s face. “Jesus Christ, Veronica. Why do you have to be so damn cold?”
“Because we all don’t get the luxury of flying off the handle at every little thing! I have to be cold because I can’t stay open to someone who tears me apart at every moment!”
“I don’t mean to tear you apart! I fucking love you!”
“And I love you and it kills me!”
It hurt to see him sitting in her passenger seat, his face crumpling at her admission, his hand reaching for the door handle, hiding his face. But what hurt worse was the fact that she couldn’t let him leave because even if he had decimated every hope she had once had for their relationship, underneath the pain and the angst and the gallons of tears she had shed in the privacy of her bedroom, at the very root of it all, he was still Logan Echolls; he had been her best friend, her boyfriend, her enemy, her lover.
He was Logan, and she was Veronica, and hurting him was never as satisfying as it should’ve been.
“Logan, wait!” she cried, grasping the sleeve of his suit, tugging on the expensive fabric to keep him there.
“What do you want from me, Veronica?” he rasped. “You keep bitching I take the options away from you, so here you go: do you want me around or do you want me to stay away?”
“I want…I want…”
“What?” he prompted, voice softer.
“I just want things to go back to the way they were. I just wanna go back,” she confessed, her voice trembling in a way she found to be absolutely pathetic.
Logan raised his hand, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, bringing himself closer to her as he divulged, “Me, too.”
The thing about kissing Logan Echolls is that sometimes, she did it without even realizing it. It was like a muscle memory; her lips and hands knew the path to his body so well that she didn’t even have to tell them to touch him anymore, which was how she ended up half-seated on his lap, her mouth mauling his, his fingers tangling in her hair.
It had been over two months since Veronica had been this close to him, and, while she knew that she had missed him, she had not known that she had ached for him. Sure, sexually, she was about as frustrated as frustrated could be, and, while Mac had joked that she could always hook up with a more-than-willing Piz, Veronica hadn’t wanted unfamiliar hands touching her, strange lips roaming the planes of her body. She wanted Logan's hands, and Logan's lips, quirking into that shy smile as he murmured his love for her.
As Logan’s hands slid down from her hair, tracing the silhouette of her body, Veronica twisted, tossing one leg over his lap, now in a comfortable position to kiss him the way that she wanted. Of course, Logan was enjoying her position shift for an entirely reason: the skirt that Veronica was wearing was now bunched around her waist, allowing the heat of her center to be pressed directly against the erection that had almost comically sprung up the second Veronica had touched him.
It was almost startling to feel the warmth of Logan’s hands against her torso, his fingers lightly skimming along her sides, cautiously questing towards her breasts. As Veronica began to nibble at his ear, Logan dipped his hand inside the cup of her bra, his thumb finding her painfully erect nipple with unerring accuracy, prompting Veronica to moan.
“God, I missed you,” he panted, pushing her shirt up, desperate to see her, to be able to taste her.
“Logan!” she cried out as he took her nipple into his mouth, his teeth teasingly pulling at it before using his tongue to soothe it.
Veronica’s hands moved to his pants, clumsy fingers desperately trying to undo his fly. She could feel it pressing against her, could remember every time that it had been inside of her, and she was nearly overwhelmed by the intimacy of this situation.
And then he was there, in her hand, and Logan was restlessly tossing his head back and forth as his hips thrust upward, wanting to prolong his pleasure at her hand. Their lips met again, this time sloppy and without their usual finesse, and Logan tugged impatiently at her skirt, trying to get it higher, trying desperately to reach the thong that was now a barrier standing between him and his pleasure.
“A little help here,” he grunted as he tried to work the strings of her underwear over her hips with little success.
Tearing her mouth away from his neck, she gasped, “Tear them!”
It was so unlike the Veronica he knew to say that, so out of character for a girl who had once been so tentative in bed that it was nearly impossible to get her to touch him, that Logan nearly came right then and there. Veronica was so unbearably turned on in that moment that, as he tore her panties from her body, she didn’t stop to consider if this was the latest mistake she had made with Logan Echolls, if this was stupid and reckless and hormones run amuck. No, she needed this.
She needed him.
Logan touched her where she was wet and throbbing, and, upon determining that she was more than ready, positioned her just right above him. As she slid down onto him, they both cried out, their voices echoing in the stale air of her new car. He felt big inside of her-almost too big after their separation-and nearly scorching inside of her. As she rested her hands on his shoulders in order to steady herself, her eyes locked with his, and she really looked at him for the first time in months.
He was thinner now, but it was a healthy thin, and his skin was aglow with a tan. There was wisdom in his eyes now, not born of an unhappy childhood or the premature death of his first love, but from hard lessons learned at the expense of his happiness. This was a different man than the one she had fallen in love with, and that was both comforting and disconcerting all at the same time.
“God, Veronica, you’ve gotta move. You’re killing me!”
Slowly Veronica began to move her hips, up and back, side to side, rolling her hips just so as she tightened her inner muscles, simultaneously massaging him and hitting her sweet spot. As she began to rise and fall, Logan’s hands grasped her hips, urging her to go faster, thrust harder, just do more.
The intimacy of meeting his gaze was getting to be too much for her. She was too raw emotionally to be this close to him, and the irony of it was not lost on her. Here she was, as close to him as any two people could get, physically one body, and she was finding eye contact to be too intimate.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, determined not to look at him as she began to slam down on him, his hips thrusting violently upward to meet her. She was going to be sore tomorrow, and she knew it, but it just felt too damn good to make it gentle. Veronica did not want gentle lovemaking right now; she wanted to be roughly fucked in the car her father had bought with the money that Logan’s married lover had given to him. She wanted to be with Logan and simultaneously be punished for being with him, and she knew that the pleasure she was going to find tonight was not going to last any longer than the orgasm that was guaranteed to her, and she did not care.
She felt his fingertips bite into the soft flesh of her hips, and she could tell from the tightly clenched muscles in his jaw that he was desperately trying to hold off, to wait for her to find her pleasure before he took his own.
Veronica did not know why she hadn’t come yet; she was so fucking close that she could taste it and still she could not achieve that release. Her thrusts were becoming harder and the rhythm of them disrupted as she struggled, and she nearly sobbed in relief when Logan touched her swollen clit, practically begging for attention.
As he began to furiously polish it with his thumb, Logan sighed, “Oh, Veronica, I love you so fucking much,” and, almost as if on command, she came apart in his arms.
She shouted his name, cried out to God, clawed at his chest for fear she would float away if she did not, and she yelled again as she felt him come inside her, a startling realization that they had not used a condom. Veronica collapsed against his chest, desperately fighting to get oxygen into her lungs, and Logan trembled with the force of his orgasm, petting her hair with a shaking hand.
It was not even a minute into the post-orgasmic bliss that the distinctive notes of “Fuck the Police,” Logan’s ring tone, brought them crashing back to reality.
Veronica moved off of him, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the unfamiliar sensation of his release sliding out of her body. As she reached for a Kleenex to swab the mess between her legs, Logan tucked himself back inside his now stained tuxedo pants, wiping off the remnants of his drawn on moustache.
“Yeah, this is Logan,” he said into his phone. After listening for a minute, he assured the caller, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Shouts and cheers were now audible from the frat house, and Veronica could see several brothers, arms full of toilet paper and spray paint cans coming out the door. It was time for business. As she rolled the window down, now releasing the scent of their mating to the outside world, she reached for her camera, neglecting to address the man in her passenger seat.
“Veronica...”
“You have to go and I have work to do,” she broke in. “We’ll do this later.”
“I have a few minutes. We need to talk...”
“And say what, Logan? You’re still recovering and you can’t be with anyone. Are you offering me anything now that you weren’t six weeks ago? Is this you asking me to come back?”
“I’m not ready for that yet...”
“But you’re ready to fuck me in my car.” She scoffed, all but glaring at him. “I’m not your booty call, Logan.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the only one trying to get someone naked tonight!”
“No, but you’re the one who was gonna say it was a mistake first, weren’t you?”
Logan stared at her for a moment before nodding, shame all over his face before he disappeared into the darkness.
Two hours later, after Veronica got her money shot, she drove back to her apartment. When she saw the devil horns on her dashboard, she picked them up, holding them for a moment, before she collapsed into tears, sobbing her disappointment in herself into the cool October air.
Two weeks later, Wallace told her that Logan had fallen off the wagon, and Veronica broke down again, knowing she would never forgive herself.
Author: lit_chick08
Pairing: LoVe
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Word Count: 3114
Summary: As if Veronica needed another reason to hate Halloween…
Spoilers: Everything that’s aired thus far
Disclaimer: Shockingly enough, I don’t own “Veronica Mars”
A/N: Written for the Incognito challenge for vm_library and beta’ed by the incomparable Madame Librarian.
A/N2: This is a sequel to another fic that I wrote. The link is below, but it is not necessary to read to understand this one. All you really need to know is that it is set in an alternate season 3 where Logan went to rehab and he and Veronica are taking a break, but everything else is the same. The story itself was inspired by the song “Hate Me” by Blue October and that’s also where the title comes from.
Drying Out, The Pseudo Prequel
Veronica Mars had always hated Halloween. Even as a child, she had detested the one night a year that allowed everyday assholes to indulge in even more juvenile and hurtful behavior under the guise of fun. If she had her way, Halloween would be wiped off of the calendar completely and November could come sooner, bringing with it political smear campaigns and a holiday that contributed to the obesity epidemic.
But no, Halloween was a given, and with it came douchebaggery of the highest form, perpetrated by drunken frat boys everywhere. And it was for that reason that Paul Sheldon, upstanding Neptune community member and neighbor to the Pi Sigma fraternity house, had hired Mars Investigations to get pictures of the Pi Sig brothers vandalizing his property, just as they did every year. There was even a bonus for her if she managed to get a money shot of the bastard who destroyed his young daughter’s jack o’ lantern. Veronica had immediately taken the job, because even if the Pi Sigs weren’t rapists, they were despicable human beings and bringing them down was definitely going to feel good.
Veronica was slouched low in the front seat of her Saturn as she watched the partygoers enter the fraternity house, all in various states of undress and inebriation, screeching loud enough to drown out the feminist protesters on the lawn, of which Parker was a part of. The blonde was still not speaking to Veronica; Mac had tried to assure her that she would get over it, but Veronica wasn’t sure. If Parker could hold a grudge the way that Veronica could, the PI was certain they would not be wearing matching friendship bracelets any time soon.
Oh, and there was Dick, dressed as a condom, weaving his way through the protesters. Veronica knew it wasn’t professional to hold personal animosity on behalf of her clients, but she really hoped that they threw him down on the ground and nailed him in the balls again because this time, she did have her camera and that was a total Christmas card.
Wallace and Piz were going to the party sponsored at the basketball house, which had a pimps and hoes theme. They had tried to wrangle Mac into going along, but Mac was firmly of the belief that it was called underwear for a reason, so she was spending the night at the counseling center manning the phones. Veronica wished that she had done the same, but lately, working the rape crisis line was getting to be too much. She had barely begun to deal with her own rape; sometimes she doubted the wisdom of trying to help others through theirs.
As her thoughts began to wander towards her last confrontation with Parker-which had occurred the day before in front of the entire counseling center, in which Parker had screamed that she was a disgrace to women and should get the fuck out-she didn’t even notice the shadow that came up alongside the passenger side door until that shadow was climbing into her car.
Her taser was out and ready to be fired when she realized that the man now seated in her car was none other than Logan Echolls, wearing a black tuxedo, a black eyeliner moustache drawn onto his upper lip, a set of devil horns flashing atop his head. The irony of Logan, walking temptation, dressed as the ultimate sinner was just too delicious, even for Veronica.
She hadn’t seen Logan in weeks. Despite his request that they be friends, Veronica had pointedly been ignoring him. It hurt far too much to be around him, to see him smile when he joked around with Wallace, and not wonder what it would have been like if he had wanted to get back together after leaving rehab. She had spent so much time hating him after their blowout on the Coronado Bridge that she had swore that she would never even want to be with him again; but, as usual, she had changed her mind. Of course, she’d never admit that out loud or to Logan; the last thing he needed was her clinginess while he was only six weeks sober.
“You know, most college coeds actually go into the party, not sit like peeping toms across the street.”
“Most college coeds also take their tops off for the promise of plastic beads. Would you have me give in to every alcohol induced trend?”
A mischievous smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “That depends on whether I get to be in the viewing area or not.”
“Um, I believe you relinquished your rights to my fabulous breasts,” Veronica tried to joke, kicking herself the moment the words were out.
The smirk disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m aware.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Veronica nodded towards the fraternity house. “Are you here for the party?”
Logan nodded, sliding the horns off of his head and setting them on the dashboard. “Dick invited me.”
“Is that smart?”
“Is anything Dick does smart?”
“No, I mean…is that the best idea, for you to hang out at a party that promises the best booze on campus?”
“Veronica...”
“Because the pamphlets at the center said that you’re supposed to change your habits and your friends, that you have to eliminate destructive influences, and I think that at the top of the list is Dick ‘Destructive Influence’ Casablancas...”
“Veronica!”
She stopped, waiting patiently in a way that was completely unlike her.
“I’m the safe driver tonight for Campus Security. If someone at the party needs a designated driver, I’m it. I’m not even going inside tonight; I get to sit in my car and wait for my cell to go off to tell me where to go. I’m only here because someone called but before I could get here, the guy’s girlfriend came and got him.”
Feeling properly chagrined, she just said, “Oh.”
“I’m serious about staying sober, Veronica. I’m not gonna throw it away for a keg stand with a bunch of Dick’s buddies.”
Fidgeting with the cuff of her shirt, she mumbled, “I’m sorry. I just thought...”
“I know what you thought.”
Uncomfortable silence descended upon the car, and Veronica, every nerve on edge, was prepared to shout at him to get out of her car and end her discomfort when Logan stated in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I miss you.”
He might as well have fired a shotgun for the echo that resounded through the car. Veronica whipped around to face him so quickly that she was certain she had thrown her neck off, and her expression was horrified hope.
“I know that you’re avoiding me and I understand why. I just want you to know...”
“How dare you!” she cut in, pain causing every syllable to waver.
“Veronica-“
“You pushed me away! You aren’t with me because you made it that way! You don’t get to miss me!”
Tiredly, Logan sighed, “Sweetheart...”
“You broke my heart,” she interrupted, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Do you even realize that? You broke me. And when you come back like this, when you say shit like this, you twist the knife in my heart that much more. So please excuse me if I don’t particularly empathize with your plight.”
Distaste filled Logan’s face. “Jesus Christ, Veronica. Why do you have to be so damn cold?”
“Because we all don’t get the luxury of flying off the handle at every little thing! I have to be cold because I can’t stay open to someone who tears me apart at every moment!”
“I don’t mean to tear you apart! I fucking love you!”
“And I love you and it kills me!”
It hurt to see him sitting in her passenger seat, his face crumpling at her admission, his hand reaching for the door handle, hiding his face. But what hurt worse was the fact that she couldn’t let him leave because even if he had decimated every hope she had once had for their relationship, underneath the pain and the angst and the gallons of tears she had shed in the privacy of her bedroom, at the very root of it all, he was still Logan Echolls; he had been her best friend, her boyfriend, her enemy, her lover.
He was Logan, and she was Veronica, and hurting him was never as satisfying as it should’ve been.
“Logan, wait!” she cried, grasping the sleeve of his suit, tugging on the expensive fabric to keep him there.
“What do you want from me, Veronica?” he rasped. “You keep bitching I take the options away from you, so here you go: do you want me around or do you want me to stay away?”
“I want…I want…”
“What?” he prompted, voice softer.
“I just want things to go back to the way they were. I just wanna go back,” she confessed, her voice trembling in a way she found to be absolutely pathetic.
Logan raised his hand, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, bringing himself closer to her as he divulged, “Me, too.”
The thing about kissing Logan Echolls is that sometimes, she did it without even realizing it. It was like a muscle memory; her lips and hands knew the path to his body so well that she didn’t even have to tell them to touch him anymore, which was how she ended up half-seated on his lap, her mouth mauling his, his fingers tangling in her hair.
It had been over two months since Veronica had been this close to him, and, while she knew that she had missed him, she had not known that she had ached for him. Sure, sexually, she was about as frustrated as frustrated could be, and, while Mac had joked that she could always hook up with a more-than-willing Piz, Veronica hadn’t wanted unfamiliar hands touching her, strange lips roaming the planes of her body. She wanted Logan's hands, and Logan's lips, quirking into that shy smile as he murmured his love for her.
As Logan’s hands slid down from her hair, tracing the silhouette of her body, Veronica twisted, tossing one leg over his lap, now in a comfortable position to kiss him the way that she wanted. Of course, Logan was enjoying her position shift for an entirely reason: the skirt that Veronica was wearing was now bunched around her waist, allowing the heat of her center to be pressed directly against the erection that had almost comically sprung up the second Veronica had touched him.
It was almost startling to feel the warmth of Logan’s hands against her torso, his fingers lightly skimming along her sides, cautiously questing towards her breasts. As Veronica began to nibble at his ear, Logan dipped his hand inside the cup of her bra, his thumb finding her painfully erect nipple with unerring accuracy, prompting Veronica to moan.
“God, I missed you,” he panted, pushing her shirt up, desperate to see her, to be able to taste her.
“Logan!” she cried out as he took her nipple into his mouth, his teeth teasingly pulling at it before using his tongue to soothe it.
Veronica’s hands moved to his pants, clumsy fingers desperately trying to undo his fly. She could feel it pressing against her, could remember every time that it had been inside of her, and she was nearly overwhelmed by the intimacy of this situation.
And then he was there, in her hand, and Logan was restlessly tossing his head back and forth as his hips thrust upward, wanting to prolong his pleasure at her hand. Their lips met again, this time sloppy and without their usual finesse, and Logan tugged impatiently at her skirt, trying to get it higher, trying desperately to reach the thong that was now a barrier standing between him and his pleasure.
“A little help here,” he grunted as he tried to work the strings of her underwear over her hips with little success.
Tearing her mouth away from his neck, she gasped, “Tear them!”
It was so unlike the Veronica he knew to say that, so out of character for a girl who had once been so tentative in bed that it was nearly impossible to get her to touch him, that Logan nearly came right then and there. Veronica was so unbearably turned on in that moment that, as he tore her panties from her body, she didn’t stop to consider if this was the latest mistake she had made with Logan Echolls, if this was stupid and reckless and hormones run amuck. No, she needed this.
She needed him.
Logan touched her where she was wet and throbbing, and, upon determining that she was more than ready, positioned her just right above him. As she slid down onto him, they both cried out, their voices echoing in the stale air of her new car. He felt big inside of her-almost too big after their separation-and nearly scorching inside of her. As she rested her hands on his shoulders in order to steady herself, her eyes locked with his, and she really looked at him for the first time in months.
He was thinner now, but it was a healthy thin, and his skin was aglow with a tan. There was wisdom in his eyes now, not born of an unhappy childhood or the premature death of his first love, but from hard lessons learned at the expense of his happiness. This was a different man than the one she had fallen in love with, and that was both comforting and disconcerting all at the same time.
“God, Veronica, you’ve gotta move. You’re killing me!”
Slowly Veronica began to move her hips, up and back, side to side, rolling her hips just so as she tightened her inner muscles, simultaneously massaging him and hitting her sweet spot. As she began to rise and fall, Logan’s hands grasped her hips, urging her to go faster, thrust harder, just do more.
The intimacy of meeting his gaze was getting to be too much for her. She was too raw emotionally to be this close to him, and the irony of it was not lost on her. Here she was, as close to him as any two people could get, physically one body, and she was finding eye contact to be too intimate.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, determined not to look at him as she began to slam down on him, his hips thrusting violently upward to meet her. She was going to be sore tomorrow, and she knew it, but it just felt too damn good to make it gentle. Veronica did not want gentle lovemaking right now; she wanted to be roughly fucked in the car her father had bought with the money that Logan’s married lover had given to him. She wanted to be with Logan and simultaneously be punished for being with him, and she knew that the pleasure she was going to find tonight was not going to last any longer than the orgasm that was guaranteed to her, and she did not care.
She felt his fingertips bite into the soft flesh of her hips, and she could tell from the tightly clenched muscles in his jaw that he was desperately trying to hold off, to wait for her to find her pleasure before he took his own.
Veronica did not know why she hadn’t come yet; she was so fucking close that she could taste it and still she could not achieve that release. Her thrusts were becoming harder and the rhythm of them disrupted as she struggled, and she nearly sobbed in relief when Logan touched her swollen clit, practically begging for attention.
As he began to furiously polish it with his thumb, Logan sighed, “Oh, Veronica, I love you so fucking much,” and, almost as if on command, she came apart in his arms.
She shouted his name, cried out to God, clawed at his chest for fear she would float away if she did not, and she yelled again as she felt him come inside her, a startling realization that they had not used a condom. Veronica collapsed against his chest, desperately fighting to get oxygen into her lungs, and Logan trembled with the force of his orgasm, petting her hair with a shaking hand.
It was not even a minute into the post-orgasmic bliss that the distinctive notes of “Fuck the Police,” Logan’s ring tone, brought them crashing back to reality.
Veronica moved off of him, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the unfamiliar sensation of his release sliding out of her body. As she reached for a Kleenex to swab the mess between her legs, Logan tucked himself back inside his now stained tuxedo pants, wiping off the remnants of his drawn on moustache.
“Yeah, this is Logan,” he said into his phone. After listening for a minute, he assured the caller, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Shouts and cheers were now audible from the frat house, and Veronica could see several brothers, arms full of toilet paper and spray paint cans coming out the door. It was time for business. As she rolled the window down, now releasing the scent of their mating to the outside world, she reached for her camera, neglecting to address the man in her passenger seat.
“Veronica...”
“You have to go and I have work to do,” she broke in. “We’ll do this later.”
“I have a few minutes. We need to talk...”
“And say what, Logan? You’re still recovering and you can’t be with anyone. Are you offering me anything now that you weren’t six weeks ago? Is this you asking me to come back?”
“I’m not ready for that yet...”
“But you’re ready to fuck me in my car.” She scoffed, all but glaring at him. “I’m not your booty call, Logan.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the only one trying to get someone naked tonight!”
“No, but you’re the one who was gonna say it was a mistake first, weren’t you?”
Logan stared at her for a moment before nodding, shame all over his face before he disappeared into the darkness.
Two hours later, after Veronica got her money shot, she drove back to her apartment. When she saw the devil horns on her dashboard, she picked them up, holding them for a moment, before she collapsed into tears, sobbing her disappointment in herself into the cool October air.
Two weeks later, Wallace told her that Logan had fallen off the wagon, and Veronica broke down again, knowing she would never forgive herself.